


by saying something stupid like "we're dating?!"

by Imostlyregretthingsyoudid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 07:52:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5448974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imostlyregretthingsyoudid/pseuds/Imostlyregretthingsyoudid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas-related. Warning for awkward, ugly sweaters, and teasing. Established relationship, almost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	by saying something stupid like "we're dating?!"

Of course there’s showers on christmas eve, because why wouldn’t it be? Naturally, Stiles gets caught up right in it, because why wouldn’t he?

”Open up!! My nipples are gonna merge with my shirt! Wait, could that be a thing that could happen? That’d be… anyway! Why’d you even ask me over if you don’t answer your door? Of all days you decide to lock your door, today was one- oof!” The door interrupts Stiles very rudely in the face and the Derek behind it looks awfully surprised, earphones hanging around his neck. Ah.

”Hi, jerk,” Stiles decides on. He was picking between dork, jerk, asshole and beautiful. That last one would’ve hurt his pride way too much. He usually stays away from the compliments unless he gets one first, which is never.

”Hi… Sorry, I didn’t expect you to show up.” Derek actually apologizes, and it’s like actually getting the christmas present you want, it happens about once in your whole childhood, for most. Stiles does this weird thing with his hands, mimicking a need to protect himself from the apology like it’s an alien. Derek seems to catch on, because his eyes are rolling hard. ”You’re wet.”

”Yeah, and it’s your fault, as always,” he says, raising both eyebrows at Derek, and earns a very forcibly suppressed smile. He has learnt through time that despite everything, Derek actually enjoys jokes sometimes and his favorite jokes are either about making fun of Stiles or something dirty. All that means is that our favorite broody werewolf is a giant child who just got past the fart-joke phase. Stiles still likes fart-jokes sometimes but that’s besides the point. ”Can I come in now?”

Derek grabs his arm and helps him inside, a bit too roughly. Though that’s just how any good night with Derek starts. Despite his suffering nipples, he jumps on the opportunity to press Derek against the wall once he’s closed the door. The unnecessarily high body heat coming off his rock-hard abs is just what he needs. He says ’hi’ again, this time millimeters from Derek’s mouth, like he’s not the same person that was outside just now and he needs to re-introduce himself. Derek simply wraps his arms around him, a second greeting rolling off his lips before he presses them against Stiles’. It couldn’t possibly be better, but just as Stiles tries to make it take a turn for the hotter, Derek pushes him back.

”What?”

”I didn’t ask you over for that.”

”…What? Really?” Derek’s nod is all he needs to suddenly feel very nervous. Why would he invite him here otherwise? They hardly talk normally, (honestly Derek doesn’t, Stiles does a lot). So whenever it seems like they will, Stiles feels like a sixteen-year-old virgin again. Them talking is uncharted lands. He notices Derek staring with this piercing glare. ”If it’s about research, I’ll just let you know right now that the answer is ’nope’.”

”That’s not it. And you should really change out of that, right now. Borrow my clothes.” Derek clears his throat, making Stiles look down at his clothes, realizing it looks like he just won a wet t-shirt contest.

”Oh.” He realizes when he looks back up, that Derek is glaring at him because he is trying not to look anywhere else. Stiles likes it, though, so he pretends like he’s not sure what to do about the situation. ”So do you wanna help me with that, or…?”

”Go.” Derek is always sculpted, but right now he looks like a literal sculpture, stiff, uncomfortable, jawline more prominent…

Stiles complies, regrettably, but insists there be something warm or edible when he comes back down the stairs.  

Every time he’s alone in Derek’s room, he takes the chance to snoop, and he always comes up empty-handed. There’s some pictures of his surviving sisters and an old and rumpled wallet-size picture of his mother, though none of Peter, understandably. A computer without a password, nothing on it except the bestiary they’ve been writing together. A bed, clothes (all on the floor of the wardrobe except some of the jackets that got the honor to be hung). Books, but all classics, nothing personal besides the first fifty shades book that Stiles gave him on his birthday. You can tell Derek isn’t home often and doesn’t assume he’ll stay long in this place.

He peels the wet shirt that’s currently trying to make nest between every curve of his body off and looks through the sad pile of clothes for something that wouldn’t make him look like he needs to work out more. Stiles has put on muscle since they met, but so has Derek, if you can believe it.

****  
**-** **  
**

 

Walking down the stairs, he starts to feel a little nervous again. He has a habit to overthink things and Derek left him to try to figure out what this whole thing is about instead of explaining right away. His first theory is that Derek has changed his mind about their whole… thing and plans to dump him. The second… actually there is no second, because he’s sure the first one is right.

Derek is on the couch, where he usually is. Now that Stiles takes in what he’s wearing, he realizes he must be feeling festive. Ugly christmas sweaters is usually Stiles’ thing. He wonders if he should point it out and make fun of it, but he can’t risk being dumped earlier than he has to be. So he just sits down next to his almost-boyfriend and grabs the cup on the table, mumbling a ‘thanks’. Stiles startles and burns his tongue on the hot chocolate when Derek moves closer, so their shoulders can touch.

“I want to give you something,” Derek starts, raising an eyebrow - probably at how weird and fidgety Stiles is acting.

Time stops when he realizes Derek didn’t ask him over to tell him it’s over, or that he’s too annoying and should stop texting him every hour, or that it bothers him when he makes dirty jokes in front of Scott just because Scott doesn’t get it unless you get literal.

“Huh…? As in a christmas present? For me?” He’d like to imagine that his eyes are lighting up like that of a child on christmas morning. Stiles is hoping how happy he is to hear that shines through somehow. Maybe he should do a happy dance. Well, it’s probably safer not to, that would seem a little douchey.

“Kind of.”

“Dude! That’s so sweet! I didn’t get you anything.” Derek looks very uncomfortable admitting to that, more so than he is admitting that he actually likes Stiles on some level. His hand is holding out a very small package that could very well just be a piece of paper that says “Sike!”. Stiles takes it, putting the cup he was holding back on the table, and holds it in his hands for a while like it’s a mythical creature he’s never seen before. Derek looks at him expectantly, like a kid that’s afraid of disappointing it’s mother, so he starts opening the wrapping.

“ _\-- money?_ ”

“For fixing your car. It’s always breaking down.” Derek explains, close to rolling his eyes, like he always does when Stiles assumes he doesn’t know basic human etiquette. “You don’t like it?”

“No, I do!” Compared to other things Derek does, this took effort and thought, so he does appreciate it. Plus, it figures Derek would be the kind of guy to only give gifts he was sure would be useful. Like socks, or something like that. Stiles grins thinking about it and leans closer, putting his head on Derek’s broad shoulder. “At least you wrapped it, I’d call that A for effort, considering you’re you.”

“Ha- _ha_. I just thought since we’re dating we’d-”

“Woah woah, hold on! Hold. on. We’re _dating?_ ”

The silence and unwavering eye contact that ensues is that of nightmares. Stiles is on the verge of doing an awkward flail just to break it, but the air is too heavy to do that. If this was a cartoon, a tumbleweed would go right over their laps and whisper “dudee…” gently through the air. Lydia would be outside the window eating popcorn. Eventually Derek’s eyes make his voice do this weird thing, like something between a gasp and a cough.

“I mean-, I do, want to call it that too! I just, I had no idea we were officially... official, you know? We never talked about it, you never said anything. And I never really told you how I feel about you- because I feel a lot of things, and they’re all fighting inside my head- Plus, you value killing monsters over spending time with me, which, to be honest, I would too, but that’s beside the point and-“

Derek leans over and presses his forehead to Stiles’.

“Sorry.” He also does a weird cough thing, his eyes flickering over different parts of Stiles’ face. “For assuming.”

Stiles just nods, swallowing down a lump he had been keeping since he suspected Derek might want to break things off on christmas eve because who does that? Not Derek, thankfully.

“Will you officially date me, Stiles?”

“...Yeah.” Speaking, he lets out a sigh at the same time and smiles like he’s never smiled before.The tension in the air thins out when Derek mirrors his dorky smile with an equally dorky smile, just with way more pearly whites. “okay.”

He’s pushed down quickly, and Stiles never ceases being surprised by how dog-like werewolves are when they’re happy. Derek would be wagging his tail right now if he had one, but then again, so would Stiles too. He always needs this heat against him, no matter how heavy Derek is, he never complains about that. He’s rubbing his stubble against his neck and jaw, kissing along the skin.

At first he just closes his eyes and runs his hands through his hair, but feeling his own heart speed up, he pulls Derek in for a proper heated kiss. Derek always surprises him by biting and nudging at him, playfully. This time, he beats him to it and traps Derek’s lower lip between his teeth, earning a low sound from the back of Derek’s throat.

Hot hands that had been slowly travelling up under his (technically Derek’s) shirt decide to move downwards instead, in a painfully slow way. Stiles would not be ashamed to admit that it makes him whine and lift his hips up to meet those hands. He, however, would be ashamed to admit Derek turns him on this much even if he has a knitted sweater with a motif depicting a cat in a santa outfit. Looking at it quickly behind heavy eyelids, he realizes he was the one who bought it for Derek, last christmas. That just turns him on even more. It would be a bit of a shame, but Derek should still never take that sweater off. “Oh my god.”

Derek grins, like he thinks Stiles is surprised by something his body can do. It’s not that Stiles often uses that phrase in bed to these kind of things, but oh my god, this sweater. He can’t let it go. Hands grope his ass, mouth is all over his chest, marking, and- okay, he’s letting it go. The sweater needs to be removed right now.

He’s in the middle of trying to multitask taking off Derek’s sweater and kissing him breathless when his phone vibrates. Every molecule in his body ignores it with a passion until Derek pushes him back down on the couch and points out that someone won’t stop texting him, so he should answer. The cold air now filling the space between them makes him realize his cheeks are probably as red as Derek’s uglycute sweater. He grudgingly pulls the phone out of his now a little too tight pants and scrolls through messages.

“Oh. Sorry, it’s my dad. I gotta get back.” Stiles pouts with a passion, and looks up sincerely at Derek, who just nods like it’s totally okay to blueball him on christmas.

“You should go.”

It annoys him sometimes how understanding Derek is about things, but he pulls his (Derek’s) shirt down to his pants and sits up, waiting a while before standing up. He thinks about blood, possibly chopped up arms, death, and black vomit. One minute later he’s good to go. Derek seems to get what he’s doing, and is probably looking away just because he’s trying hard not to laugh at Stiles. Despite that, Stiles stands up  holds his head up so he can kiss him again. They’re boyfriends now so he can do that, and he’s very happy about it.

He pauses after a while, in the middle of picking up the rumpled money from the floor.

“Hey.”

Derek looks at him with a typical “can his eyebrows raise the roof? they sure can.” look. It makes Stiles feel nervous again, but he can’t really remember a time when Derek didn’t make him nervous. He already started his sentence, so he can’t really stop now.

“Do you wanna come with? I mean, uh, eat with us?”

“... Yeah.” Derek’s lips stretch into a very dorky smile, and Stiles can’t resist mirroring the look. “Alright.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure what to rate this so I hope I chose right. Also ! I'd like to thank you for reading despite my love for commas!! I try to keep them at a minimum but I don't have the time for editing this story much because I'm going on a plane tomorrow. But thanks!!! happy holidays!


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